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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29160378">Child’s Marionette</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/pseuds/oneironym'>oneironym</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anyder Museum of Eschatology [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Bickering, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Possessed Thancred Waters, Singing, Spoilers up to 5.4, set during 2.0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:28:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29160378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/pseuds/oneironym</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lignum vitae wood with traces of minium pigment - This figure stands as tall as a full-grown Hume, but to the Ancients, this puppet was of perfect size to serve as a child’s toy. The intricacy of the holes bored through the wooden parts of the body implies that they are meant for aether and not for string. It is believed that such marionettes were meant as instructional playthings for young Amaurotines, teaching them fine control of their aether to mimic life-like movements.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anyder Museum of Eschatology [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A strong baritone voice filled the Void, singing scales and arpeggios with the slight waver of someone knowledgeable but rusty. Lahabrea, within the body of the Hyur called Thancred Waters, had gone too long without a real, physical voice for his use. The form he wore had something of a reputation for song, and the Ascian was secretly pleased that he could delve into a very old hobby of his own while he honed his ability to replace “Thancred” among his companions.</p><p>Gradually, his voice grew steadier as Lahabrea grew accustomed to having tangible form, and recalled his own practiced skill. The tones a mortal could produce paled in comparison to what he had once been able to sing, but as he finished his warm-up exercises, Lahabrea attempted a manner of a hymn to Zodiark. The crystalline statue presided over the ring of stones meant for the other Convocation members here, though the Speaker was the only one present for now; he sought to fill the space with his voice--</p><p>“If you don’t <em>mind</em>,” grumbled a voice in the darkness, cutting Lahabrea off. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”</p><p>There was a low hum of aether, and an elderly man in full Garlean regalia stepped from a portal onto the podium meant for the Architect. </p><p>“Emet-Selch.” Lahabrea took care to convey audible disappointment in his tone as he acknowledged his brother’s arrival.</p><p>“His Radiance, Emperor Solus zos Galvus,” Emet-Selch corrected. Then he laughed, allowing his guise of age, his comically thick beard and the wrinkles beneath it, to slip away, revealing the face that Lahabrea recalled from a happier time. For whatever reason, he kept the third eye that the Garlean people had evolved.</p><p>“Really now, of all the things you could be doing with your time, you’re playing with your new body’s singing voice?”</p><p>“I have a role to play, and I would see it done properly,” Lahabrea replied with the practiced disarming shrug of his host. “I am to be this ‘Thancred’ among his closest friends and colleagues, and if they recognize that aught is amiss, then the whole charade is useless.”</p><p>Emet-Selch scoffed, crossing his arms incredulously. “And this somehow necessitates caterwauling into the Void?”</p><p>“I would say an aficionado of theatrics such as yourself should be able to understand.” Lahabrea noted that Thancred’s voice was satisfyingly suited to back-talk. “But not all of us build our plans over simply playing our unhinged, gaudy selves over and over again, age in and age out.”</p><p>“Yes, I play what I know, so I need not waste time studying my lines for a new part every act,” the Architect sneered back. “Though we have time in abundance for our plans, I would prefer we not waste it waiting for you to change hosts every cycle like an insect growing into a new shell.” </p><p>Lahabrea grimaced. “We have another bunch of would-be heroes on the Source, and I plan to take their measure. See if we may be able to use them, and if not, I will see to their removal.”</p><p>Emet-Selch spread his arms in a grandiose gesture, clothing himself again in the full regal armor and horned helm of the Emperor’s persona he had crafted. “Then why bother with a singing rogue? If you must take a mortal form, take one with power and crush these heroes to dust. Or use your pet Garlean to do the job.”</p><p>Thancred’s mind - his consciousness, his thoughts, his memories - rested in Lahabrea’s hands like the script for his role. Mortals had fresh recollections of the Ardor just visited upon them by the fall of Dalamud. Thancred held hope and determination, bonds with others … To attempt another Rejoining so soon, while champions of the previous still lived, would require greater care than if they had allowed time for the previous Ardor to fade into memory. Lahabrea would see how far the roots of mortals' tenacity and resolve extended ere he tore out the weeds. Turning heroes to martyrs would only spur the fragmented people of the Source to resist even more, and the Speaker did not care to endanger his efforts unnecessarily.</p><p>With a sigh of disgust, Lahabrea shook his head. “My methods are my own. Show a damned shred of patience, and we will have our next Rejoining.”</p><p>Imperial cape billowing behind him, Emet-Selch twirled in a circle and laughed. “A Calamity of song, then? You’ve given up on your Heart of Sabik, instead to teach the fragmented people how to manipulate aether with their voices now? An empire of choir mages! Would you dash those against my Garlean Imperial army in order to tear the world asunder? It has been a while since we played war against you, brother, and I think I miss the diversion.”</p><p>“Now <em>this</em>,” Lahabrea hissed, pointing a finger at his Unsundered companion, “Is a waste of my time.” He pulled his dark aether around himself to return to the Source then, ignoring whatever parting wit Emet-Selch tried to throw after him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part II. CW for talk of alcohol and intoxication</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Low voices outside his door started to rouse Thancred gradually from sleep, and Lahabrea returned to fill the mind of his puppet. Lahabrea borrowed mortal bodies far more often than his brothers did, but it had still been a while since he felt sunlight on mortal skin. He took a first deep breath and ventured to open his eyes--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And immediately put a hand to his face with a groan as the daylight in the room pierced his head directly to the back of his skull. The quiet conversation outside began to make his head throb faintly, too, and the Ascian had to shut his eyes again for a moment as the headache came on in full force. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hyur he now inhabited was in a guest room in the Quicksand, in Ul’dah, Lahabrea recalled. Thancred had overindulged in alcohol the night before, which had made it trivially easy for the Ascian to take control of his already-tired body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now, he had a horrendous hangover. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately, he had the luxury to disentangle his aether from the throbbing nerves, and Lahabrea did so as quickly as he could manage. Then he quickly sifted again through Thancred’s most recent memories. What had this boy been up to, and what could he expect this first morning among mortals?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he could pay attention to the conversation outside without pain, Lahabrea immediately recognized one of the pair of voices. A gentle young woman’s tone, one which brought an ache of fondness to his host’s heart, that reminded Lahabrea for some reason of a feeling he had once had towards Elidibus….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By Zodiark, why would he ever feel such </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the Emissary? Lahabrea thought with disdain. Elidibus had been little more than callous clockwork for millennia. No, Thancred felt a familial affection for this other Hyur, protective and a bit sad. This was Minfilia, the one of the Scions with the strongest Echo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As though summoned by the thought of her name, there was a light creak of floorboards in the hallway before Minfilia knocked softly at his door. “Thancred? Are you alright?” came her voice from outside. “Are you awake?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Such … soft, patient concern. The Ascian imagined that, once rejoined with the rest of her broken mortal fragments, she would be a model citizen and perhaps a fine friend. But for now, Minfilia’s natural empathy, coupled with her utter inability to control her Echo, made her dangerous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another, more insistent knock from outside. “Thancred? Are you decent? May I come in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Minfilia,” he mumbled sitting up. He was in bed, on top of the blankets, still wearing his tunic and trousers from the night before. Then, louder to his visitor, he called out, “Yes, I’m alright. You can come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened carefully, and the Scion girl stepped into the room, offering a small, sympathetic smile. Minfilia carried a small tray with a silver pitcher and two matching cups; discreetly, she stepped around Thancred’s carelessly discarded sandals on the floor to set the tray down on his nightstand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard you had a bit of a rough night, so I thought I’d bring you some water.” She filled one of the cups for him, then took the chair from the other side of the small room to sit closer to his bedside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahabrea had spent the night before paging through Thancred’s memories like the script for this play. Unfortunately, there remained the mystery of what the Hyur had been up to the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, gods. What did Miss Momodi tell you?” He stared pointedly at the cup of water as he took it from the nightstand and raised it to his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minfilia poured water for herself into the other cup, and sat back in her chair, legs crossed, to take a sip. “Your secrets are safe with her,” she reassured him. “Well, and with everyone else at the Quicksand’s bar last night, but … as I understand it, you did not get up to anything too terribly scandalous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahabrea took another drink, and steeled himself before letting the ache of the hangover creep back into his consciousness. Some discomfort would be a fair price to pay for a further measure of authenticity in his acting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, my apologies,” he groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut against the force of Thancred’s headache. “I do have some updates to my next report on the Ascians, though,” he went on. “ I’ll get it to you as soon as I have had a chance to scan it one last time for quality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few alterations to send the Scions off on wild goose chases, a few teasing bits of misinformation, a tantalizing grain of half-truth…. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you will not,” Minfilia stated, holding up one finger to stop him. “You will rest today and not touch your reports, Thancred.” A slight furrow formed in her brow. “You are pushing yourself too hard, and I must be the one to tell you, drinking yourself to oblivion like this is not like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahabrea opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Thancred had no words for this, either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” the Scion girl pleaded. “Just until sunrise tomorrow, rest as much as you need to, eat a fine meal, keep drinking water, visit the baths… whatever you must do to give yourself respite.” Lahabrea lowered the cup to his lap, and Minfilia reached out to gently touch his hand. “We all appreciate all of your hard work, Thancred. Very much so. The Scions can function for a day without you if it means you will not burn yourself out entirely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Ascian did not feel her Echo, but something in her words cut him more deeply than he expected. Attempting at first to ignore it, he replied earnestly, “My work cannot wait! Every moment I sit idle, <em>hundreds</em> of souls could be at risk. Is this what-- what… what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Louisoix </span>
  </em>
  <span>would want me to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nearly fumbled the name, and not just because the rise of emotion had set his head to throbbing with renewed vigor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Louisoix would want you in top shape to continue your fine work.” Minfilia sat back to take the pitcher of water from the nightstand, and offered to refill his mug with a silent gesture. “He would be proud of you, as well, I promise. We need you, and we need you at your best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahabrea drained the rest of the water from his cup, then held it out to allow the Hyur woman to pour him more. His jaw worked as he mulled over the words, eyes lowered to study the designs embossed in the silver of his mug. This was about Thancred, and how Thancred would respond, he reminded himself - the lapse of attention had to be a result of the hangover. A bit too much authenticity, perhaps….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I could go for a bath once my head feels better,” he replied. Then, feeling a light smile come on, he threatened, “I cannot promise I won’t sing in the bath, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile bloomed on Minfilia’s features, and she set the pitcher down to raise a hand to her lips as she laughed. “Gods, Thancred, I’ve not heard you sing for an <em>age</em>! I shall listen for your wonderful voice from the halls.”</span>
</p>
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